


Ghost Writing

by teaandabiccie



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Supernatural Elements, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:02:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandabiccie/pseuds/teaandabiccie
Summary: Ever since he can remember, Roronoa Zoro has been able see things that other people can't. After bouncing from foster family to foster family, he is finally taken in by Dracule Mihawk, a famous medium, who taught him how to handle his ability, even though his interests lie in his guardian's other talent: swordsmanship.When his adopted sister, Perona, starts a business involving writing letters to bereaved families from their loved ones, Zoro could not care less.So why is it that that this one guy's letters keep coming to him?
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy & Portgas D. Ace, Monkey D. Luffy & Roronoa Zoro, Portgas D. Ace & Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 22
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A ghost AU? Why not?
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more of this project. I'm currently using NaNoWriMo to force myself to work on fanworks but I am a simple woman with simple, feedback driven needs. I'll probably devote most energy to things people want to see the most.
> 
> Expect all of the straw hats and others to appear in this fic, though I'll be adding character tags as people are introduced.

Zoro closed his eyes, leaning against the train partition. He took a long breath in through his nose, holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it from his mouth. Wado pressed her fluffy head into his hand. He rubbed it absently, without opening his eyes. Her warm weight against his side grounded him as it had done since he was a kid.

“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath to her. She didn’t react and neither did anybody else in the carriage.

There wasn’t anybody close enough to hear. The presence of two large dogs on either side of him tended to have that effect. Wado was a beautiful animal, or so Koushiro-sensei had always maintained. She was entirely white and had a long thick coat that even an adult man could hide his hands in. She also had a very kind face. She was quiet, calm, great with children or anybody really. Perona had told him that she was the sort of dog anybody would want to hug. She met the cuteness criteria, apparently.

She was also a service dog. His service dog to be precise. The customary high vis vest and harness she wore warned most people that she was working and not to bother her. Most adults could read this and respond appropriately. And for those who didn’t?

Kitetsu growled from Zoro’s other side. He was Wado’s opposite in almost every way. To most eyes, he was a large black dog with a shaggy coat and too-white teeth. Teeth which he liked to show to strangers at all possible opportunities. Kitetsu was not a service dog. Kitetsu had chosen to stay with Zoro; he was free to leave at any time. Yet he carried himself as though he was one poor grip on Zoro’s part away from mauling anybody who looked at him in a way he didn’t like.

Which was anyone who got too close. Living or dead.

Kitetsu was growling. But Kitetsu was always growling when he accompanied Zoro anywhere with too many strangers. Zoro’s fingers found Wado’s ear, smoothed down the soft fur of the top of her head. She was still calm and Kitetsu was not snarling yet.

It was fine. Probably.

Wado whined and pressed herself closer to him. He focused on that, on the sounds coming from her and Kitetsu, on the soft fur beneath his fingers, on the solid surface of the train partition he was leaning against. His face was frozen. These sorts of places weren’t usually cold. That wasn’t something to think about. Think about the dog and the not-quite-a-dog.

He couldn’t think loud enough to drown out the crying.

There was a little girl at the other end of the carriage, clinging to her dishevelled father, who sat staring at nothing. She was afraid of Kitetsu. It wasn’t unusual for children to be afraid of Kitetsu; even to the untrained eye, he was a big black mass of barely restrained rage. But the girl was not afraid of Kitetsu because he looked like a textbook example of a scary dog.

She was afraid of Kitetsu because he had three tails, claws like talons and fangs so sharp they might be able to pierce steel. She was afraid of Kitetsu because she could _see_ him. She could see Kitetsu for what he was but the father whose comfort she was desperate to receive could not see her.

The little girl was dead. She sat on the seat next to her father, clinging to his arm while the man shivered from a cold he was unable to discern the source of. Her skin was pale and blue-tinged. Her hair stuck to her face, mercifully covering eyes which at this point were probably little more than dark holes in her face. Her clothes shifted around her body with the motion of waves that weren’t there. She was dripping water but it vanished before it hit the floor.

Even with his eyes closed, Zoro couldn’t escape the sounds of her.

Suddenly, Kitetsu snarled, lunging forwards. Zoro’s one good eye snapped open as he tightened his grip on Kitetsu’s leash, dropping Wado’s in order to hold him back.

“Ah, sorry, my bad,” came the unfamiliar voice of a blurry man.

“It’s fine,” said Zoro, grabbing Kitetsu’s collar with both hands.

The hound turned his head a bit too far for an ordinary dog, the bloodlust in his eyes momentarily replaced by a look of pure judgement.

Now his vision had cleared, Zoro followed his glare upwards to the stranger, who had stopped in his tracks and was now staring at him with wide brown eyes. They weren’t hollow. They weren’t misty. They weren’t the dark pits that indicated he was almost beyond saving. They were a person’s eyes, like any other person. Kind eyes on a freckled face. Normal. Ordinary.

Until Zoro noticed the gaping hole in the stranger’s chest, a hole so large he could see the other side of the train though it. His blood turned to ice.

_Do not talk to the dead._

It was the first rule Zoro had ever been given. The most important rule when it came to trying to live an ordinary life, trying to do ordinary things. He’d broken it many times as a child. Too many times. He hadn’t known better, hadn’t been careful enough, hadn’t wanted to look anyone in the eyes just in case theirs weren’t there anymore.

He hadn’t realised that communication is a two way street.

_To talk to the dead is to open the door and invite disaster._

He looked away immediately, checking on the status of the other passengers. To the left of him, there was nobody. There hadn’t been at any point since he’d got on the train. He had known that and yet he’d still reacted carelessly to a stranger who had supposedly appeared from that direction.

To the right, there were only two other living passengers: some obviously hungover guy wearing large headphones, who might even have been asleep, and the man with the child. The misty haze of death curled around that man’s feet. He didn’t have the presence of mind to even look at the snarling dog at the other end of the carriage – or notice that Zoro had just told the air that it was fine.

The living could not see the dead, couldn’t feel them either unless they really knew what they were looking for. But that didn’t mean that the dead could not influence the living – even if they didn’t mean to. The girl’s constant crying and desperate pleas were draining her father, calling to him, beckoning him closer to death.

Zoro looked away from him too.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the ghostly stranger, crouching in front of Kitetsu.

Did he have a death wish? Zoro supposed he didn’t realise or care for the danger he was in; he was, after all, already dead. Though he appeared remarkably solid and colourful for someone lingering on a plane their substance was no longer suited to. A recent death then. Perhaps he didn’t remember what had happened to him. Perhaps Zoro had got lucky this time and the dead man hadn’t fully registered that he was dead.

Zoro grabbed Kitetsu’s shoulders as the guy dropped a hand on the not-dog’s head and ruffled his fur. Kitetsu snarled and spat but with Zoro’s arm around his neck, did not lunge to bite the stranger.

“Stop it,” said Zoro, though whether it was to Kitetsu or the menace petting him without even asking first, he wasn’t sure.

Kitetsu’s jaw snapped shut in warning.

The guy petted him once more, the movement careful and slow. A small, sad smile lingered on his face. Zoro felt the hackles on Kitetsu’s neck begin to go down, though the growling did not abate.

“Thanks for letting me pet your dog, been a while since I could actually pet anything,” said the stranger, with a little laugh.

He stood, scratching at the back of his neck. There was something off about it. There was always something off about the recently deceased.

Zoro maintained his grip on Kitetsu just in case the not-dog changed his mind about the stranger, who was still too close. He could feel Kitetsu’s fur against his skin as he did and focussed on that, only that, as something inside him squeezed in a way that was almost painful.

Too normal, too young. The stranger lingered there for a moment, waiting for a response Zoro couldn’t give him. It would be easier just to not look at him, to smooth down Kitetsu’s fur until the guy gave up and left. That would the smarter choice. He’d already made the mistake of speaking to the guy, letting him know he could see and hear him, but that didn’t mean he needed to engage in further interaction.

If he ignored the guy entirely, any other dead who might witness them might just think that the ghost was losing his mind. It happened to some earlier than others after all.

But something, some awful metallic taste in the back of his throat, made him meet the warm gaze directed to him. Swallowing it down, he nodded almost imperceptibly.

The stranger’s smile widened into a grin too bright to belong to a man with a hole that big through his chest. Then faltered. The ghostly girl to the right wailed.

Zoro clenched his fist, hidden in Kitetsu’s thick, black fur. Wado, unperturbed by the low, rumbling growl her angrier counterpart directed to her, licked his cheek. Her muzzle brushed his earrings on her way in, making them chime together.

“Oi,” he said, nudging her away with his shoulder.

Her eyes smiled up at him. He could hear the brush of her tail against the partition as she went to lick him again. He could also hear the footsteps of the stranger carry him away and then pause.

“See you around then, I guess.”

Zoro lifted his head in time to see the dead man pick his way down the carriage towards the crying girl. He expected the stranger to keep walking. There were many different kinds of dead but unless they understood the reason they had failed to move on, most would wander restlessly until they found it. Often the same paths they walked in life.

He expected the stranger to pass harmlessly through the door at the end of the carriage into the next.

But he didn’t. He sat down next to the crying girl and gave her a cheery greeting. Against his better judgement, Zoro kept watching him, trusting his sunglasses to hide the direction of his attention.

The stranger leaned back, spreading his arms along the top of the train seats as he kept up an animated conversation with the dead girl. Zoro was torn between straining to listen in to what the stranger was saying over the rattling and roaring of the train and actively blocking it all out so he didn’t have to consider the girl’s periodic sobbing cries.

The train passed through a rough area of tunnel and answered that question for him. His heart hammered in his chest to the same rhythm as the clattering of the train. Zoro took a deep breath and counted down the seconds in his head. Only fifteen more until the tunnel ended and the train pulled into the next stop. The stop after that would be his.

He heard the sudden rush as the train exited the tunnel, felt the pull as it slowed to a stop. The grainy voice over the tannoy announced the place and he noticed the sudden rush of unsteady footsteps as someone scrambled past him to get off the train.

His remaining eye opened reflexively just in time to see the dishevelled father make it through the train before they closed. A child’s laugh sounded to the right of him as train doors beeped to forewarn their closing.

The ghost girl still sat next to the man with the hole in his chest. She hadn’t followed.

“Did it come out?” she asked, the childish innocence of her voice eclipsing the off-breathlessness of the drowned in her voice.

Or perhaps it was just the renewed rattling as the train pulled out of the station.

“Probably,” said the stranger with a light shrug, an easy smile on his face. “But she didn’t find it. It turned out it wasn’t the dog who ate her ring – it was my brother.”

The girl giggled. “Really?”

“Really. Apparently, he thought it was a sweet because the gem was red. Nobody was searching through _his_ poop.”

The girl grimaced. As she did, her hair parted, revealing milky white eyes and a face of pallid grey. “Gross! I bet she was really mad too.”

“Nah,” said the stranger. “We didn’t tell her. He made her a replacement ring with tin foil and nail polish. We _did_ let her find the nail polish stains on the carpet. You know, she’s still got that tin foil ring.”

“Doesn’t she know it’s tin foil?”

The stranger hummed. “Of course she does. But Lu- my brother made it for her. That’s worth as much as the silver or the ruby.”

“No, it’s not,” said the girl. The air suddenly cooled. Her hair whipped around the face in the grip of a current that was no longer there. “Money’s more important. Mommy said so!”

Zoro looked away but couldn’t not notice the tendrils of knotted hair lashing out from the corners of his eye. The stranger was unperturbed.

The voice announcing the next stop seemed extra distorted and gravelly. Kitetsu snarled, startling the only other living human in the carriage awake.

“Come on,” said Zoro, loudly, even though it wasn’t necessary. “We need to get off here.”

It was as much for the stranger as it was his dogs. The sound might distract the ghost girl, might give the stranger the time and warning he needed to move away from the unstable spirit beside him. Against his better judgement, he met the stranger’s gaze grimly.

If he hadn’t been visiting the hospital today, if he’d brought his tools with him, if he there hadn’t been another living person so close by, then maybe that girl wouldn’t be too far gone. Maybe he could have done something about her, about _him_.

But he hadn’t and so he couldn’t. It wasn’t possible to deal with all of them. He knew that. It wasn’t possible to save every lost soul, he knew that too. He couldn’t ever get civilians involved. It was a rule. One he absolutely was not allowed to break.

But if he could just get this guy away from her, then maybe at least one of them would be able to find what they needed to move on. Maybe the thickness in the back of his throat would go away.

The door beeped, announcing its opening.

“Let’s go,” Zoro repeated firmly.

He stepped off the train and onto the platform. His dogs, even Kitetsu, both obeyed him and jumped down beside him.

The doors closed without anyone else, living or dead, disembarking. The train departed with a sudden rush of wind. It buffeted Zoro, stinging his eyes and face.

It left him looking up at the looming shape of the hospital in the distance, cold and alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have just sat down and written this chapter in one sitting. I was supposed to be in bed two hours ago. Yet here we are.
> 
> This is actually half of what I expected this chapter to me. The more I wrote, the longer this scene became and this seemed like a good place to cut it.
> 
> Some warnings for negativity in this chapter. Zoro has some unpleasant experiences in his past in this fic. Since the fic is written from his perspective, he may have some views about things that the author does not share.
> 
> I have done some research here but again, everything is presented through Zoro's views. Also, Wado may not be your standard service dog. I promise you there are reasons for this.

“Sorry, buddy,” said Zoro as he looped Kitetsu’s leash around the post and tied it there tightly. “You’re not allowed in.”

Kitetsu looked so incredibly affronted by this that Zoro failed to completely prevent the corners of his lips from quirking upwards. He hated being called ‘buddy’. He hated being tied up. He hated being left behind. He liked to pretend that he didn’t like being petted either, except for on his own terms.

Zoro ruffled the fur between his ears. Then smoothed them down at the low, rumbling growl he received in response. He wasn’t showing his teeth – the threat was as empty as they came.

“Behave,” said Zoro, giving him one last stroke. “Don’t do anything until I get back.”

The growling intensified so Zoro rubbed the space under his ears. He fell silent, looking about as put out as it was possible for anything canine to look.

Kitetsu somewhat contained, Zoro pushed his sunglasses up his nose and stood, pausing to brush the dust from his knees. His stomach turned as he turned away from his kind-of-canine companion. Not for the first time, he wished he could take Kitetsu places like this.

Technically, he could. Kitetsu had papers, somehow. Mihawk had given them to him with a sharp look, said something about how if he was going to insist on working with the hound then he would have to keep him on a tight leash and take responsibility. Supposedly, the paperwork was bulletproof. He’d had an associate create it for him.

But having two service dogs looked weird. He would have to explain that Kitetsu was in training because people would definitely ask him about it. Zoro did not want to have any dealings with people in this place. No more than strictly necessary.

Which was precisely why he kept his sunglasses on as the automatic doors to the hospital opened for him. Glasses on, eyes down. They were tinted darker at the top. As long as he didn’t look up, he wouldn’t catch anybody’s eye – or lack thereof.

“Find Sensei,” he said to Wado in a low voice.

Her ear flicked back towards him. She walked at the correct distance in front of him, leading him in the direction of Shimotsuki Koushiro’s private room. He followed, watching her tail wave and feet part with his one remaining eye.

He wasn’t visually impaired. Well, he _was_ but the eye he still had still worked as well as ever. Wado was a service dog but not a guide dog. It said as much on her vest. But living people saw the dog in a high-visibility vest leading a man with a large scar over one eye and dark glasses, and they made assumptions based on a stereotype.

Wado did not have to weave around living people. Living people automatically moved out of her way. The dead were a different story. And these sorts of places had no shortage of those.

Zoro kept his eye open but fixed on the ground, trusting Wado to evade every drifting figure they came across. Unlike Kitetsu, Wado was a real dog. A real service animal. Purchased and trained for him when he’d been a child. But like most animals, she sensed the presence of the supernatural. She was also very intelligent, intelligent enough to learn very quickly that he sensed the supernatural too and that he didn’t always enjoy its proximity.

Especially here. Zoro hated hospitals. There was nowhere to go. No silence. No peace. And this hospital by far was the worst.

It was a fancy private hospital, the kind that someone like him would never have been permitted to set foot in if not for his affluent foster parent. But it didn’t matter how expensive it was or how affluent its clientele were. Net worth did not prevent a person’s ultimate death. It didn’t help them to move on either. In fact, it could be argued that it often made post-death worse.

But that didn’t matter much either. Zoro had a foolproof plan for avoiding places like this: don’t get sick. Don’t lose; don’t get hurt. Simple. Effective.

Until someone else ended up there and requested that he visit.

They arrived at the door to a private room without incident. Zoro took a deep breath of disinfectant scented air and knocked as firmly yet politely as he was able. It didn’t do to present weakness now.

“Come in,” came a voice he wished he didn’t recognise.

Of course Koushiro wasn’t alone. None of their extended family had ever bothered with them while Zoro was part of it. Yet as soon as the man was nearing the end, the worms came out of the woodwork. As soon as there were assets at stake, everyone wanted a part of them.

He stowed his sunglasses in his pocket and entered, keeping his face as neutral as he could.

Shimotsuki Koushiro reclined in the hospital bed, propped up by pillows. A smile spread across his face as Zoro entered his view. Circular glasses rested partway down the man’s nose. He took a moment to push them up and adjust his sitting position.

Zoro noticed his sunken cheeks and bony wrists. He tried not to notice the mist or the cold. Wado pressed herself to his leg.

“Zoro!” said Koushiro warmly.

“Roronoa,” said the figure sitting at the bedside. The tone was cold, impersonal. The eyes were colder, very personal.

“Uncle,” said Zoro, inclining his head towards the older man in a gesture of false respect.

They weren’t family. They never had been, not even while Koushiro had considered him his son. But the man clearly hated the reminder of what almost was. And even though Zoro hated this man, hated this place, hated this situation in its entirety, he got a kick out of watching the man’s expression sour.

“Sensei,” he greeted Koushiro with a slight bow.

Koushiro turned to his younger brother. “Zoro and I have a lot to catch up on. I won’t keep you if you have places to be.”

“Oh, no, I’m perfectly fine if you’d rather I stay,” was the reply.

Graciously, Koushiro only smiled. “Give us a moment, won’t you? I’m sure you’re dying for a coffee.”

Thankfully, the man took the dismissal as what it was, vacating his seat.

Zoro stepped to the side to allow him to pass, catching the scowl on his face in the moment before he turned back to face his brother. “Shall I bring you anything from the cafeteria?”

“No, thank you,” replied Koushiro. “Just enjoy your moment’s peace. Although, there is a lovely place to get coffee in the centre of the park across the street. If you feel like a walk, I wouldn’t protest if you brought me back my usual.”

“Of course,” said Koushiro’s brother. His scowl only deepened as he walked out of the room, letting the door swing shut on its own.

Zoro closed it properly, partly out of respect, partly to highlight the man’s poor conduct to Koushiro, who valued manners more than most.

“Come here,” said Koushiro softly. “Let me get a good look at you.”

In spite of himself, Zoro found himself obeying. He hovered next to the vacated chair.

“Sit, sit,” said Koushiro.

Zoro sat down, back straight, body still.

“How are you? How are things?” Koushiro asked.

Zoro was painfully aware that he was being appraised. He was far from the child he had been the last time he was in this man’s care. His former guardian would not have been able to fathom the life Zoro had lead since Mihawk had taken him on. But having those eyes looking over at him – not down anymore – made him feel small anyway.

“I’m fine… Things are… fine, I guess.” He resisted the urge to squirm in his seat.

“Mihawk told me you were considering college and volunteering at a local dojo once a week,” said Koushiro.

Zoro’s surprise must have shown on his face as he finished the sentence with a sigh.

“Yes, Zoro,” he said. “Your letters might be as infrequent as a blue moon but I do still care for your wellbeing. Of course I’m still in contact with your guardian.”

This time, Zoro did shift uncomfortably. His eye shifted from Koushiro’s face, guilt welling in his stomach. It drifted across to the window, darting away immediately as a misshapen face formed in the glass. He could feel his heart thumping unsteadily in his chest.

Koushiro held out his hand towards him, resting it on the edge of the bed.

Zoro hesitated, looking down at the offered hand. The longer he did, the more he noticed the cold mist beginning to obscure the edges of his fingernails, reaching out from under his knuckles, wrapped around his wrist. He resisted the urge to shudder.

Wado saved him the struggle, pressing her muzzle into the hand.

“Oh, you are such a good dog,” Koushiro said to her, rubbing her head with his other hand.

Her tail thumped. The cold did not seem to bother her. She herself was warmth and comfort. The air of the room seemed to clear, just a little. The fine hairs on Zoro’s arms still stood on end.

“Are you cold?” asked Koushiro.

Zoro shrugged. “A little. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Zoro could see his gaze shift from Zoro’s remaining eye to the missing one and back again. Koushiro did not have to say it. They both knew that he had always been cold here after the accident.

“Yeah,” he said.

Koushiro looked at him for a moment longer then released Wado and settled back against the pillows. “Alright,” he conceded. A strange wistful expression crossed his face before his next words. “You look… well.”

“I am,” said Zoro. It came out a little more dismissively than he intended. Wado rested her head against his leg. He petted her but did not look down.

Koushiro smiled, breathing a shaky sigh. “Good,” he said and sounded like he meant it.

Zoro bit his lip, then remembered himself and stopped. He wanted to say something to undercut the awkwardness that was almost as stifling as the hospital smell but could think of nothing to say. It wasn’t that there was nothing left unsaid; he’d spent countless nights in his dark room in Kuragaina asking himself questions that only Koushiro could possibly answer. But what hadn’t been said had since expired. It didn’t need airing. It would do more harm than good.

“You would tell me,” said Koushiro quietly, “If you weren’t?”

Zoro did not consider himself the most perceptive when it came to how others were thinking or feeling. But he heard that. He felt that. Doubt.

He wouldn’t. They both knew it. Once, he would have done. But now? This question came years too late.

He could have lied. It would have eased an old man’s lingering concerns if he lied. But Koushiro had always hated lies, even when the lies he told were just a truth the older man wasn’t ready for. It felt wrong to. So Zoro simply deflected.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he said. “It’s like Mihawk said. I’m fine. Applied to a couple of colleges but I haven’t decided if I want to go yet.”

“Good, that’s good,” said Koushiro, relief evident in his face and his tone. “You should. It will open doors for you. A sharp mind and a sharp blade.”

Zoro remembered that saying, remembered it spoken over horribly done homework, while Kuina pointed out his mistakes. The wistfulness entered him now. The phantom face drifted across the window pane.

Zoro wasn’t sure what possessed him to say it – the ghost of the past probably.

“The dojo I volunteer at offered me a job.”

He realised that Koushiro too had been far away before he had spoken and wondered briefly if he’d been reliving the same memory that Zoro’s mind had provided. But Zoro’s words brought him back. His eyebrows rose.

Then he frowned. “Look, Zoro,” he began, then paused to pull off his glasses and tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

Zoro sat where he was, a bad taste in the back of his throat.

“I can’t…“ Koushiro swallowed before continuing in a quiet voice, “I can’t give you the dojo.”

Zoro’s jaw tightened. The bad taste worsened. The cold seemed suddenly colder. Something gripped and tugged his insides downwards.

“That wasn’t-“ he began.

_That wasn’t why I brought it up. I thought you wanted to know what I was doing. I get it. I understand._

He choked on the words. They wouldn’t come out.

“You understand-“ said Koushiro. “My brother…”

He didn’t say ‘your uncle’. That told Zoro all he needed to know.

“The dojo has been in our family for a very, _very_ long time. He thinks… He wants… Well, he’s asked if… It only seemed right to give him the chance to run our family dojo.”

“I understand,” said Zoro.

He wasn’t in the family. Not anymore. Not really ever. He knew this. It was no great shock. Koushiro was legally his adopted father; that had never been transferred across to Mihawk. Mihawk was simply training him, looking after his particular needs since the Shimotsuki family clearly couldn’t. It was all for his own good. He wasn’t cast out. He wasn’t rejected.

Koushiro would always be his father, the man had told him. He would always have a home here.

Except, as with all things, that had a time limit.

He knew this. He could only receive so many letters telling him there would be no visit for this reason or that before the excuses rang hollow even to him. He had not spoken to Koushiro in person for years.

It didn’t matter, not really. His life had brought him many opportunities. He did not need anything else. He was fine. He had plans. He had prospects. He thought he’d grown up pretty well all things considered. Mihawk could kick him out tomorrow and he knew he would be just fine by himself.

He was nineteen years old. He didn’t need anything from anyone. But there was also a part of him that was eleven years old still and standing in a dark room with bare stone walls, feeling colder than he’d ever felt before in the absence even of the ever present dead. Cast aside. Rejected. Alone.

He’d asked himself why even though he already he had already known the answer.

“You’ll have a sizeable sum of money,” Koushiro assured him. “Enough to continue paying your medical fees once I… once I’m no longer here. Enough to pay for college too, however far you decide to take it.”

“I haven’t decided if I’m going to college,” said Zoro, gripping Wado’s harness tightly.

“Well, it’s there, whether you do or don’t. Kuina’s trust fund too.”

Kuina’s, not his.

His next words tasted terrible. “You don’t owe me anything.” His tone came out low and a little dangerous, probably the result of years of training, and the years of _running_ before it. He didn’t mean for it to.

Koushiro regarded him with an unreadable expression. He seemed as though he chose his next words carefully, crafted them instead of merely speaking. “You are my son.”

_No, I’m not._

He wanted to say it. He nearly said it. It rose in the back of his throat like bile and tasted worse. Only the weight of Wado’s head in his lap made him pause.

A misty film of white lingered over Koushiro’s face.

 _You owe him,_ Zoro reminded himself.

He crafted his own response as carefully as he could without it seeming forced. “You adopted me.” His voice was calm and measured. It was not an accusation. He couldn’t allow it to be. “I don’t need anything else from you.”

Wado nuzzled him like she knew what he had done.

He added, “You gave me Wado. You sent me to Mihawk. That’s enough.”

Koushiro sighed, seemingly exhausted. “That is not…” He sank further down into the bed. “Wado has always been yours. We let you choose her. Do you remember?”

He did. It hurt to. Wado pushed her head under his arm. She had done that back then too, when he had been a terrified child living in the shadow of the accident, living with the consequences. And the loss.

Wado licked him.

“Yeah,” he said. The word caught in the back of his throat.

The look on Koushiro’s face seemed far away, melancholy. He didn’t seem to notice.

They sat in silence for a while, Zoro stroking Wado’s white hair, trying to not look at the face in the window, trying not to remember the other faces – her face, _any_ face.

He saw his shoes. They were real. They were green. Perona had bought them for him because of his green hair. Wado’s vest was too bright to his eye. That was real too. His trousers were also real. He could feel the fabric under his fingertips with one hand. Wado’s warmth bled into the other. Something was humming. A heater, perhaps? That was good; it was cold in here.

“Zoro,” said Koushiro, finally.

Zoro’s head snapped up, his gaze meeting his former guardian’s.

“Take the money,” Koushiro said softly. “I haven’t… I’m aware that I wasn’t what you needed when you needed it. But I meant what I said. I never loved you any less.”

Zoro didn’t say anything, only watched and waited.

“Let me do this for you.” His voice was sincere with an undercurrent of pleading.

Zoro didn’t like hearing it. He knew exactly what it meant.

“I couldn’t help you with…” Koushiro gestured towards Zoro’s missing eye as though that had been the root cause of all of his problems. “Let me put you through college.”

The face at the window vanished. The dying man’s request lingered in the air.

“Alright,” said Zoro and then, because it was customary and polite and Koushiro always insisted on good manners, added, “thank you.”

Koushiro smiled. All tension seemed to drain from his body. His eyelids fluttered, his eyes falling shut.

Zoro held his breath.

“Thank you,” said Koushiro, voice slurred with sleep. “Thank you for visiting. I’m afraid my eyes are closing on their own.”

“Yeah,” said Zoro. “Do you – would you like me to let you sleep?”

Koushiro’s eyes opened but remained half-lidded. As he finished talking, they fluttered closed again. “It won’t be very entertaining for you to watch an old man sleep. You have colleges to apply for.”

Zoro did not point out that he had told him earlier that he’d already applied. Instead he stood, pulling his sunglasses out of his pocket, and headed towards the door. He paused there, not sure quite what to say, finally settling on a lame, “Sleep well.”

“Mm,” Koushiro mumbled in response. “Visit again if you can.”

“Yeah,” said Zoro. If he could. He could agree to that. For some reason, he didn’t think he would see the other man again.

For a moment, he lingered in the doorway, just looking at the sleeping form of the man who had been such an important figure in his life, then such an absent one. Then the familiar voice of Koushiro’s brother chatting to a nurse cut through the quiet and the moment was over.

“Let’s get Kitetsu,” Zoro said to Wado, his voice barely over a whisper.

Sunglasses in place, he let her lead him through the hospital corridors and outside into the fresher air. Warmth began to return to his limbs immediately. The ordeal was over. He breathed a sigh, expelling some of the tension from his body in one long breath.

He breathed it too soon.

Wado stopped in front of the post where he had left Kitetsu. Kitetsu wasn’t there. All that remained was the leash, still wrapped around the post, its end severed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and I'd love to hear what you thought about this chapter <3
> 
> Next chapter will see the return of a few familiar faces...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in this chapter for descriptions of a dog attack and injury. If you want to avoid this, please stop reading after 'I'm Calling Father.' You can pick up again at 'At the time, Zoro hadn't understood why...'
> 
> This chapter sort of got away from me in that it got long. But some familiar faces will be found ahead!

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Zoro called Kitetsu’s name as loudly as he could. His voice was hoarse already, his bottle of water empty in his backpack. He didn’t know why he was bothering; if Kitetsu was nearby and hadn’t already responded then he clearly wasn’t going to.

“Kitetsu!”

The severed remains of Kitetsu’s leash felt heavy in his pocket. He paused to clear his throat, glaring all around him at the surrounding area.

The park had seemed like the most likely place for Kitetsu to go. His ‘dog’ might not have really been a dog but he did have a physical form on the material plane. A large black dog running wild down the streets would cause havoc and Kitetsu, while not a master of foresight and mostly unconcerned with the actions of mere mortals, probably wouldn’t make that mistake. Not again.

The park on the other hand was a large area of somewhat natural space, a place where dogs were often let loose to run. Most of the park was sectioned with paved pathways but there was enough natural vegetation to allow a creature to hide from plain sight. It made sense that Kitetsu would come here, Zoro had thought. It also made sense that Kitetsu, who had been living and working with Zoro now for five years, would come when he was called.

Sure, when their inadvertent pact had been made all those years ago, Zoro had said that Kitetsu was free to leave if he chose to. But since Kitetsu had tentatively accepted him as his master and followed him home, his companion had never left.

In spite of it all, Zoro was convinced that Kitetsu wouldn’t actually leave. Not permanently, not intentionally.

But he would chase.

There wasn’t a lot that could kill Kitetsu. There was even less that could do it permanently. Zoro knew he didn’t really have to worry about him. Kitetsu could take care of himself and would probably reappear when he was ready to.

But Kitetsu didn’t really have a concept of moderation without a steady hand to reign him in. He wasn’t human and never had been. He didn’t care for the rules of society. He didn’t care what something might look like to an ordinary human observer. He wasn’t careful.

There was a reason that the tag on Kitetsu’s collar officially said ‘Kitetsu III’.

Zoro could still hear Mihawk’s furious voice, low and threatening as he had pinned him with a piercing look.

_It is your responsibility to uphold the rules and ensure no collateral damage. If you cannot control this creature, you will need to destroy it. Don’t make me play my hand again; I will not be so merciful next time._

It was only in hindsight that what his mentor had done could be called merciful.

There had already been one more incident since that one. Two strikes. Zoro didn’t want to find out what would happen if Mihawk discovered there had been a third.

“Kitetsu!”

With this one, Zoro’s voice broke. Wado whined beside him. Darkness had fallen over the park and under the moonlight, amongst the dark shapes of the trees surrounding them, she stood out like a white halo. She was the brightest thing he could see.

“I know,” he said to her, looking around. “You’re hungry and I don’t have anything for you. Five more minutes and then we can go.”

It was easier to say than to do. In the light, the park had been too large to search. In the dark, every tree looked equally misshapen. He had no idea where they were or where to go. He picked a direction and started to walk.

“Kitetsu!”

This time, there was a response. “Heeeeeey!”

Zoro froze where he stood. Wado stopped another pace ahead of him.

“Heeeeey!” shouted the new voice again. “Is this your dog?”

A figure emerged from a fork in the path. Unlike Zoro, this figure was carrying a phone that they were using as a torch. It was a dark night in November and cold, yet this person appeared to be wearing shorts and a straw hat.

Next to them, half grappled in his arms and probably blinded by the phone light was a very familiar dark mass of almost-dog. A dark mass that growled and snarled threateningly.

Two thoughts crossed Zoro’s mind at once. The first, which he instinctively vocalised was a relieved: “Kitetsu!” The second, which made him instantly regret his response to the first was that nobody living would be stupid enough to wander around at 8pm on a cold November evening in shorts and a straw hat. And that meant that this guy was probably dead.

At least there was nobody around to see them.

The third only occurred as the figure got closer, still keeping a death grip on Kitetsu’s collar. The third was that the figure was a boy around the same age he was. That his eyes, illuminated by the light of his phone, were brown and ordinary. And that the dark patch spreading down his arm was not a decoration on his sleeve; it was blood. Blood that as Zoro watched, he realised was dripping down onto the floor and not vanishing when the stranger moved.

If the stranger wasn’t alive then he had to be a very powerful yokai in order to continuously affect the material world. Kitetsu may have been vibrating with rage but considering he was not actively lunging at the guy, Zoro assumed that was not the case.

So he was alive then and probably human. It looked very much like something had bitten him. Something that Zoro strongly suspected had a name. A name that was Kitetsu.

“Shit, did he bite you?” said Zoro, stepping up to take hold of Kitetsu’s collar.

“Have you got him?” said the stranger.

“Yeah,” said Zoro, gripping tightly.

The stranger pulled his hands away. As he did so, the injured one brushed one of Zoro’s hands, leaving behind a warm wetness that was most definitely blood.

“It’s fine,” said the stranger. He wiped the screen of his phone on his shorts. As he did, it illuminated a wide smile and spread a new bloodstain across the fabric. The bite looked deep.

Zoro’s heart sank and then thudded uneasily. And here he hadn’t thought this day could get any worse.

“He bit you,” he said, like that was going to change anything, glaring down at Kitetsu, whose low growl quietened but did not stop.

The stranger shrugged and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “It’s okay. He didn’t mean to. He was chasing a cat and I got in the way. He didn’t bite my arm off so I figured he’s probably a good boy.”

It was not okay. This boy had no idea how not okay it was. The fact he wasn’t freaking out over what he probably assumed was a pretty bad dog bite was a miracle in and of itself. But it wasn’t a dog bite. Kitetsu was not a dog; he was so much worse.

Zoro had to do something about it. Now. Before Mihawk could find out about it. But he hadn’t intended to stay here this long. He definitely hadn’t intended to work here. He didn’t have any of the stuff he needed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he said to the boy.

The boy just grinned. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ve had worse and the cat didn’t get eaten and you got your dog back so it’s fine. I’ll just go home and stick a plaster on it if it gets too gross.”

Zoro was almost too busy to hear him - not panicking but definitely running through a mental list of possible ways to solve this situation, ranging from knocking the boy out and having Kitetsu carry him to Kuragaina to knocking the boy out and amputating his arm. Almost. But the last sentence stopped his runaway train of thought in its tracks.

“You’re going home to stick a plaster on it?”

“Yeah,” said the boy, blinking.

“Just a plaster?” questioned Zoro.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re not even going to clean it out?” he asked, in spite of himself.

“Nah, I spat on it afterwards so it’s clean.”

It occurred to Zoro in that moment that he had somehow run into the only living person in this world who was somehow worse at dealing with injuries than he was. The way out of this came to him right after.

“Well, you found my dog for me and he bit you so will you at least let me take care of it for you?”

“Oh, do you have a plaster in your bag? I really don’t need it but Nami gets mad when I bleed on things so- ah!”

The light on the stranger’s phone screen died, plunging them into darkness. It took Zoro’s eye a moment to adjust to having only the light of the moon. Beside him, the stranger was still blinking in an attempt to bring the dark world back into focus.

“How about we go to a café so I can sort out your bite wound and you can charge your phone?” Zoro suggested. “I’ll buy you a drink or something for finding my dog.”

“Can I get a hot chocolate with extra cream and marshmallows?” said the stranger.

“Knock yourself out,” said Zoro. “I’ll even get you a slice of cake or something.”

“Awesome! I’m Luffy by the way.” Even through the gloom, Zoro could see the boy’s bright grin.

He wondered briefly if nobody had ever taught Luffy about the concept of stranger danger. He considered briefly asking him but then he didn’t want Luffy to go back on his decision.

“I’m Zoro,” he said because it was only fair, really. He’d never see this guy again anyway.

“Nice ta meetcha!” said Luffy.

“Let me just put a leash on Kitetsu,” said Zoro. The ‘ _so he doesn’t bite anybody else’_ went unsaid.

He ended up taking Wado’s harness off and putting it on Kitetsu, not trusting any knot made in his existing leash to hold him. Kitetsu’s leash got tied around Wado’s collar, even though she would stay at his side anyway.

“Can I pet your dog?” asked Luffy.

Zoro shot him a look as he finished tying the knot around Wado’s collar. “He just bit you.”

“I know. I petted him too but I meant the other one,” said Luffy.

“Oh, sure,” said Zoro.

Luffy reached out with his uninjured hand and rubbed the top of Wado’s head. “Hi, what’s your name?”

“Her name is Wado,” said Zoro, motioning for them to leave. “The other one’s Kitetsu. What were you doing in the park after dark by yourself anyway?”

Zoro pulled his phone out and pressed the torch function to illuminate their path. On the screen he pulled up Perona’s contact, scowling when he realised she had renamed herself ‘Cutest Sister’. He changed that to ‘Shit Sister’ before typing his message.

 **To Shit Sister:** Kitetsu bit someone.

Luffy, apparently undeterred by whatever pain he must have been feeling in his arm, fell into step beside him and ruffled Kitetsu’s ears. “I wasn’t. I was gonna go home but I saw this really cool cat so I chased it.”

Kitetsu growled. Zoro glared and cleared his throat in an attempt to make him stop. “You were chasing a cat?”

Luffy seemed put out by his tone. “It was a _really_ cool cat. It had these spots that kinda looked like eyes and these looong ears with tufts at the end. I was gonna take a picture to send to Usopp so he could send it to Kaya ‘cause she likes cats and I’ve never seen one like that before.”

Zoro frowned. That answered what Kitetsu had gone chasing after. He sincerely doubted it had really been a cat, though it was concerning that its oddities had started to become visible to an ordinary human being. That was definitely something to investigate later.

Maybe he would be seeing Koushiro again after all.

“Sounds like a weird ass cat,” Zoro replied, pulling up a different contact.

 **To Trafalgar Law:** Got a situation. Are you at work?

“Right?” said Luffy excitedly, in the exact moment that Perona messaged back.

 **Shit Sister:** lol

 _Not lol,_ he typed back. _We’re going to a café somewhere near the hospital. Get in the car and bring the stuff – I’ll send you the café name when we get there._

“Hey,” said Luffy. “I know a really good place a couple of streets away from the hospital. They do the best hot chocolate and the old guy sometimes gives me extra marshmallows on the side. Wanna go there?”

“Sure,” said Zoro. “What’s it called?”

“Baratie,” Luffy replied. “It looks like a ship from the outside.”

Zoro was about to send Perona the name of the place when she replied to him.

 **Shit Sister:** No way. Why should I?

He bit back a sigh as he messaged back: _Because Kitetsu bit someone, that’s why. Hurry up. We’re going to Baratie. Luffy says it looks like a ship from outside._

Her reply was immediate. Her phone was obviously still in her hand.

 **Shit Sister:** Tell Kitetsu he’s not cute at all. Can’t you get someone else to help you? I’m busy.

 **Shit Sister:** Who’s Luffy? OMG did you make a friend?

That almost made him grind his teeth together with irritation. He tapped his reply onto his phone keyboard furiously.

 **To Shit Sister:** Just pause Netflix. Luffy’s the guy Kitetsu bit.

 **Shit Sister:** How rude! I don’t just watch Netflix, you know. I do other things.

 **To Shit Sister:** Don’t care. Come to Baratie.

 **Shit Sister:** I am never helping you again. I’m Calling Father.

A flash of fear seized at his insides at that. With it came the image of Mihawk’s piercing eyes narrowed in his direction, that cold voice he used whenever either of them really truly messed up.

 _It is your responsibility,_ he had said. _I will not be so merciful next time._

For a brief moment, the screaming echoed in his ears too, the backing track to Mihawk’s icy disappointment and Zoro’s first big mistake. It had lingered long after Kitetsu had savaged that boy. It didn’t matter that the boy hadn’t been Kitetsu’s target. The people on the street hadn’t been able to see the horrific mass of swirling purple and hollow eyes that had draped itself around the child like a half-zipped bodysuit. They didn’t witness it getting torn to shreds by Kitetsu’s teeth and claws. They didn’t feel the tension ease, the temperature rise, the light brighten around them once what remained of the thing burnt up under the sun’s rays.

All they had seen was a big, black dog yank its leash out of a fourteen year old boy’s hands and attack a boy on the street unprovoked, while Zoro had only been able to scream Kitetsu’s name before Mihawk had acted.

Zoro’s shinai bag had been slung over one shoulder. Then it hadn’t been. Then it had been open and there had been the swift crack of wood against a skull.

Kitetsu’s body had been flung several feet into a wall. Blood had streaked the brickwork. Underneath, a big black dog had lain still, unmoving, with no trace of his otherworldly features.

The child had still been screaming as the mother swept in and scooped him up.

At the time, Zoro hadn’t understood why they couldn’t have just pulled Kitetsu away from the kid and taken him home. Sure, the timing had not been good but the yokai attached to the kid would have killed him soon, could have caused more harm to the family too. It had been a good thing they had done even if it had hurt.

It wasn’t until afterwards that Zoro really understood the consequences.

“Zoro?” said Luffy, next to him.

Zoro became suddenly aware that behind his missing eye, his head was throbbing. His fingers were cold. Ignoring Luffy, he typed his response.

 **To Shit Sister:** No! If you don’t call him and meet me at Baratie with the stuff, I’ll help you with your stupid letters.

 **Shit Sister:** They’re not stupid – I am providing a much needed service. But fine, it’s a deal. I’m screenshotting this as proof.

He heaved a sigh of relief. “What, Luffy?” he asked as he typed back to Perona: _Fine. Hurry up._

Her response lit up his phone screen moments later.

 **Shit Sister:** Don’t be rude.

“Who are you texting?” asked Luffy beside him.

Zoro realised with a jolt that Kitetsu had stopped growling, even though Luffy was periodically scratching the thick black fur at the base of his neck. That was interesting. Maybe the gravity of the situation hadn’t escaped him after all.

“My sister,” he replied. “She’s gonna bring a first aid kit.”

It wasn’t a lie. It would be a first aid kit Perona was bringing, just a first aid kit of a different kind. A specific one. For a very specific kind of injury.

“Oh,” said Luffy. “You didn’t need to bother with that.”

“No,” replied Zoro, firmly. “We’re cleaning that thing out. You agreed. My dog bit you – I’m not gonna let you get it infected too.”

Luffy smiled. Was he ever not smiling? “Yeah but there’s definitely one at Baratie we could use.”

 _Not the kind you need,_ thought Zoro. To Luffy, he said, “Maybe but I’m the reason you got bitten so I might as well use my stuff. Besides, I’ll need her to give me a ride home so it’s fine.”

Luffy looked at him for a moment like he was considering something then flashed him another airy grin. “Okay! So where do you live?”

As they stepped out of the park and crossed the road, Zoro wondered what world Luffy lived in where strangers just gave each other their addresses. It answered the question of whether anyone had ever taught him stranger danger. The answer was no; evidently nobody had.

“Far enough that it’d be a pain in the ass to walk,” he replied instead. It wasn’t a lie. He just left out the fact that you could not, in fact, walk to Kuragaina. Not unless you were walking on water.

Luffy nodded like that answered anything at all. “I live like a ten minute walk away from Baratie near this super cool takoyaki place. Nami knows the guy so we get loads of takoyaki for cheap. Hey, we should get takoyaki on the way home.”

“It’s been ages since I last had takoyaki,” Zoro mused.

Years in fact. The last time had probably been while he was still living with Koushiro, on the way back from a kendo competition. With Kuina.

He became suddenly very aware of how dry his mouth was and licked his lips to moisten them.

“Then we should definitely get some!” said Luffy, obliviously.

Zoro knew that Luffy was real. Their hands had touched. Kitetsu wasn’t absolutely losing his mind over Luffy’s presence. Luffy had perfectly human eyes and as Zoro turned his head to look into them, they were overflowing with vitality.

But he had never met anybody with this much zest for life. Luffy was like the sun in human form with an added dash of something that was probably naivety. Who invited a perfect stranger to get takoyaki with them? Worse, a perfect stranger whose dog had just taken a chunk out of his arm? Who decided they didn’t care at all about a probably pretty bad dog bite?

“Ah, Sanji!” shouted Luffy, charging across the street without looking.

Luckily, there was nothing coming. Zoro still checked both ways before crossing after him. On the other side of the road, leaning against the wall was a blond man smoking a cigarette, who practically jumped out of his skin as Luffy shouted for him.

“Luffy-“ he began, obviously about to say something else before his eyes dropped to Luffy’s bloodied arm. “What happened to your arm?”

“Oh, this?” said Luffy, lifting the arm like he was just now realising he’d put on a new coat.

Zoro came to stand beside him, fully prepared to face the music for the next words that were about to leave Luffy’s mouth, only for the strange boy to finish: “I was chasing a cat in the park and I got bit. This is Zoro – he said he was gonna fix it for me. Zoro, this is Sanji. He makes really good food.”

“Fix it is a bit of a-“ began Zoro.

Sanji cut him off, having looked very pointedly between Luffy’s injured arm, Zoro’s dogs and Zoro. “You a doctor?”

No, was the correct answer, but the look Sanji was giving him told him that unlike his friend, Sanji possessed a degree of common sense. Something told Zoro that a straight ‘no’ was not the correct answer.

So instead he said, “Not exactly, but I know a thing or two about first aid.”

Sanji narrowed his eyes, taking a step away from the corner of the building and into the light, which glinted off his blond hair – including one curled eyebrow.

Zoro raised his in response.

Luffy pushed himself between them. “Zoro also said he was gonna get me a hot chocolate with extra cream and marshmallows and then we’re gonna get takoyaki. Wanna come?”

Sanji tore his eyes away from Zoro and said, “I can’t, Luffy. I’m working.”

“Can you get us hot chocolate?” asked Luffy hopefully.

Sanji deflated, taking his half finished cigarette out from between his lips and looking at it longingly before grinding it under his shoe and tossing it wistfully into a nearby bin. “Alright, fine. But one of you is paying. It’s not free, Luffy.”

Luffy looked imploring over at Zoro, who felt the sudden urge to sigh. His phone buzzed in his hand. He swiped the notification away without reading it.

“Fine, I already said I’d pay.”

Luffy cheered, racing through the front door and into the restaurant.

Zoro hung back, taking a picture of the outside of the restaurant to send to Perona.

“Look,” Sanji began.

Zoro turned his head and regarded him with one tired eye, pulling up the last contact on his phone without looking. Whatever Sanji was going to say seemed to stick in his throat, so Zoro offered a bored, “Yeah?”

“Dogs,” said Sanji. “They’re not allowed in the restaurant. Even if they are _well behaved_.”

Zoro continued to look him, showing no sign that his hint was understood. So Sanji knew what had really happened. So what? It wasn’t like he was ever going to see either of them again after this. Why bother pandering to him?

He was tired. His headache was only getting worse. He really needed a glass of water and even though he’d given her most of the water he’d had on him, he was sure Wado felt the same. He wasn’t leaving either of his dogs outside again tonight. He hated lying, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

“They’re service animals,” he said, grimacing as his headache spiked behind his eye. “I’ve got their papers if you wanna see.”

“Both of them?” said Sanji.

Absently, Zoro raised the heel of his palm and pressed it to the afflicted area. The pressure wouldn’t actually help but doing something about it made him feel better anyway. “Yes. Kitetsu’s in training.”

Sanji raised his curly eyebrow then lowered it in a frown. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he growled. “You sure you can leave your friend unattended?”

Sanji sighed, suddenly seeming as tired as Zoro felt. “How long did you say you’ve known Luffy?” he remarked, heading towards the door.

“Since this evening,” said Zoro.

“Sounds about right,” said Sanji, holding the door open for him.

Normally, Zoro would find it patronising. He found it patronising right now, but he was also suddenly exhausted and still thirsty. Besides, Luffy was waiting inside and he hadn’t walked all this way with him to not solve the Luffy problem because he was too busy picking fights with some random guy with an eyebrow like a swirly dartboard.

“You don’t look like a hot chocolate type of guy,” said Sanji, letting the door close behind Kitetsu, who walked directly into Zoro’s knee when he turned to look at him.

“How would you know?” retorted Zoro, for absolutely no reason.

Sanji’s eyebrow rose again. “Just hazarding a guess. You also want a hot chocolate with extra cream and marshmallows then?”

No, he did not. “Water, for me and the dogs. I wouldn’t mind some sake if you’ve got it.”

“Water for the marimo, got it,” said Sanji with a smirk.

“Water for what?” said Zoro.

Whatever supposedly witty response Sanji had been about to attempt was lost as Luffy shouted from across the restaurant: “Zoro! Sanji!”

He sat at a table tucked away by a door marked ‘staff only’. If he hadn’t been calling and waving like a madman, Zoro might not have noticed him. But as it was, several customers also turned to look and Sanji sighed a very long sigh.

“Luffy…” he began in a low voice.

Luffy laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck. Wado led Zoro through the restaurant towards him, Kitetsu at her shoulder, his three tails winding around Zoro’s legs as he walked. Wado uttered a low growl of warning at him and, not for the first time, Zoro wondered how much of Kitetsu’s true nature she saw.

Kitetsu growled back, startling a young girl nearby. Zoro kneed his backside accidentally on purpose. He closed his jaw with a snap. It wasn’t a perfect response but it was close enough.

Upon arrival, he sat opposite Luffy at the table, his back to the door.

Luffy grinned at him. “Sanji’s hot chocolate is really good. And I asked old man Zeff to bring us cake too.”

“Let me have a look at your arm,” said Zoro.

If Luffy was even remotely taken aback by the abruptness of the request, he didn’t show it. Instead he lifted his arm and placed it on the – _white,_ Zoro noticed with mild regret – tablecloth, looking over at Zoro with trusting eyes.

Looking away from Luffy’s open expression, Zoro rolled up his sleeve to get a better look at the bite. He wondered briefly if Luffy was always seated out of the way like this because he was loud or if whoever had put him at this table had seen the arm and made the executive decision to limit how many others had to witness it.

It wasn’t good. To the eyes of most people, Luffy had obvious bite marks either side of his forearm. Kitetsu’s teeth hadn’t pierced all the way through. Surprisingly, it didn’t even look like he’d struck bone. The bone did not appear to be broken. But the teeth marks were still welling with blood. They were also larger and more jagged than the average dog bite.

Zoro tutted, running his thumb over the nearest one. Surprisingly, Luffy kept perfectly still. He didn’t even show the pain on his face.

It had to have been painful. Around the puncture marks, the skin was beginning to turn a dark purple, festering in a way that only otherworldly injuries would do. Luffy probably couldn’t see that the way that Zoro could, couldn’t perceive with his eyes the way that the purple was slowly spreading around the arm. But he probably could feel the tingling, itching, burning pinpricks as the infection clawed its way through his flesh.

“It’s not down to the bone,” he remarked as he turned Luffy’s arm over in his hands. “Looks like it might need stitches though.”

Luffy shrugged, accidentally jerking his arm in Zoro’s grip. “Nahhh, I’ll ask Usopp to glue it shut if it doesn’t heal up right.”

Zoro just shot him a look. His headache throbbed behind his skull. Wado pressed her head into his lap and whined plaintively. He scratched the space behind her ears.

Their drinks appeared so suddenly that Zoro almost jumped. It wasn’t Sanji who brought them. It was a different man with a sparse moustache. “One hot chocolate with extra cream and marshmallows. Sake and a jug of water. Do you need a dish? Shit, Luffy, that looks bad.”

Luffy reacted immediately. With a fervour that Zoro had only ever seen in Kitetsu lunging for prey, he pounced on the dish that had come with the hot chocolate, stuffing a whole handful of marshmallows directly into his mouth.

Around the marshmallows, he said, “Mf-ore arsh-allows!” Then swallowed and added, “I gotta have extra marshmallows. Sanji said I could.”

Sanji also appeared out of nowhere and whacked Luffy in the back of the skull. “You already had some, shithead.”

“But Sanji!” Luffy whined. “They’re already gone so I need extra extras.”

Zoro took the sake that the other waiter had just poured and emptied the contents into his mouth. Wado whined, rubbing herself against the underside of his arm and making him spill sake down his chin. He cursed.

“No! Learn to appreciate the food you get,” said Sanji.

Another sharp pain shot through Zoro’s skull. He must have made a sound because both Sanji and Luffy turned from their argument to look at him, one in confusion, the other in concern. Wado whined again, pressing her nose against him.

“Zoro, I think your dog wants some of your drink,” said Luffy helpfully.

“You okay, marimo?” said Sanji.

Zoro turned towards him, irritation buzzing in his veins so hard he could feel it through his skin. He was about to snap that he was just fine, that as soon as he got a dish, he would give both dogs a drink of water. His eye met Sanji’s, which was still shaded by that stupid curly eyebrow, and narrowed in a furious glare.

Then the curly eyebrow began to spin and twist like a spiral. His stomach dropped like he was falling. Wado whined even more urgently and it felt like it was coming from all around him, not by his knee. And it him what she had been trying to tell him.

He was going down, right here, in this restaurant, in front of someone he was supposed to be helping.

“I’m-“ he began, and that was all the speech he managed to get out before his body seized and his mind went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts so far!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I accept all comments ranging from 'Hi, I read this' to constructive criticism.


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